


The One True Bar

by ultrapsychobrat



Category: Blake's 7, Warehouse 13
Genre: Challenge: A Ficathon Walks Into A Bar, Community: intoabar, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-03
Updated: 2010-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-13 12:12:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultrapsychobrat/pseuds/ultrapsychobrat





	The One True Bar

He never intended to end up in a place like this, not knowing anyone and unable to get back to what he'd once had. He kept going over and over what had happened all those months ago, trying to make sense of his life and the path of choices that had brought him here. He'd really thought that destroying Star One would end the Federation's strangle hold on the people, and he'd thought so until he found out about the aliens from the Andromeda Galaxy. From there things had advanced out of his control, slipping into the realm of chaos and destruction. When he emerged on the other side, taken on board by a couple of free traders who had dumped him on the closest habitable planet, he was too ill and too confused to do anything but survive. When he became aware of things again, he found himself in a weird place—nothing was really out of place, just different than the universe he had inhabited. The people looked the same, but they talked of things he didn't know in a peculiar accent. He found it difficult to figure out what was happening.

The only comfort he'd found was a bar in a sparsely populated town within walking distance of the wasteland he had wandered for who-knew-how-long. He'd located a rooming house with a pretty inn keeper who had been willing to accept his tender of a jewel in exchange for a room. The barkeep had been equally willing to accept the same payment for a running tab. And he thought; thought about where he had been; thought about where he was; thought about what would happen to him now. None of these thoughts were very productive, but they did keep him from going completely crazy.

The people in this odd place got used to his presence fairly quickly. His accent and lack of knowing what to call things was attributed to his being from London, however, he had an idea that they regarded him as strange—not that they informed him of this out right, but one instinctively recognizes that look of guarded friendliness. He'd seen a small store front in the very small town called a Post Office with a placard that said the town was Univille, South Dakota, United States of America. That helped a bit, since he knew where the Americas were, but there hadn't been a United States for centuries. Evidently, he had been sent far back in time. There had long been theories about time travel, but it had yet to be developed, or so he'd thought. And, even so, how had he ended up on Earth, across the galaxy from Star One?

As he sat at the bar now, the two permanent residents of the rooming house came in, arguing as usual. Myka and Pete were a nice looking couple who worked together at a nearby IRS—whatever that was—but who obviously did not get along—something he knew all too well. He had talked to them before and knew enough to know when he was being lied to, and this couple were definitely lying about something. He wondered if they knew how transparent they were. Or, maybe because he'd spent such a long time on the run, he recognized people in hiding. Either way, he'd tried to get information without giving away that he knew almost nothing about where he was. Earth of eight hundred years ago was more alien in some ways than a completely unknown world.

A man he had never seen now walked in and approached the table where Myka and Pete sat. If looks could strip your soul bare, then this man shared a talent with Avon. His eyes, however, were masked by the lenses he wore—not quite as intimidating as they would have been if there were nothing between them and their subject. It was a look he'd seen before, but completely unexpected of this man from so long ago. This man had seen pain and death, perhaps caused it. And now his look was focused on Blake.

Myka and Pete said this was their boss, as they introduced him to Artie Nielson. He could tell by their voices that their boss was somehow a bit different than the usual run of men from this time period. A wave of familiarity crashed over him as he offered his hand in greeting. IRS must stand for something scary and dangerous, dangerous and very important.

“Well, where do you hail from, Mr. Blake? I mean, South Dakota isn't exactly the hub of activity for the United States.”

The question was couched as a friendly question to a new person in town, but the eyes behind those lenses weren't friendly at all. He wondered why? Did his alienness seem as blatant to Nielson as the strangeness of this centuries old civilization did to him? “London.” Myka and Peter already knew this.

“London? Which area? London is a really big town.”

“Uh...the...uh...upper...uh...nicer part.”

“But London has lots of 'nice' areas—which one?”

Danger lurked here. Mentally crossing his fingers he said, “Knightsbridge?” He knew he was taking a chance that Knightsbridge was a name known to this era. When no one looked funny or doubtful, he relaxed some. Maybe he could pull this off, at least for a while. They seemed to know London no better than he knew an ancient state of a country that didn't exist. He had no idea what he would do when he was found out, where he could go, or how he could return to his own time—or maybe it was dimension. Come to think of it, that made a lot more scientific sense than time travel. He must be in another dimension.

“Mr. Blake?”

He heard the impatience finally. “Yes, I'm sorry...what did you say?”

“I said, why did you come to America?”

“Oh, I...uh...I was just seeing the...uh...you know, sight seeing?” He didn't know what to answer. Another important question to which he had no answer. Did people sight see in this place

“With only priceless jewel stones as credit?” Incredulity was rife in Neilson's voice.

“They're not acceptable? The inn keeper and the—“

“They're perfectly acceptable, just not very usual. You know, you'd probably enjoy my warehouse. Why don't you come there with me?”

“Oh, I don't know; I'd better get going. There's a—“

“Now, Mr. Blake, I think you'd really enjoy the warehouse.”

Hands of steel gripped his arm and pulled him up from the bar stool and directed him toward the door. He moved as he was pushed, noticing that Pete and Myka hid what was happening as they followed.

The place in which he ended up looked like any other large structure of this barren area—no windows, nothing aesthetic about it's shape or architecture. He was escorted to a crowded and, as far as he could see, chaotic office. He took the seat offered and waited for whatever this Nielson person had to say. Myka and Pete stood to one side. He didn't have to wait long.

“So, Mr. Blake, how did you get here?”

“What do you mean?” He tried to remain totally passive, a skill he'd practiced well over the years.

“I mean, what is a man from the future doing here? Don't bother denying it, since we know your DNA is not recognizable as any we have now or had in the past. Why are you here?”

The man's eyes bored into him, seeing...what?

“I don't know what you mean?” he tried again.

“Where did you get the red diamonds? They're rather rare here. Why don't you have the currency of any country? Why are you in South Dakota? What method of transportation did you use to get to this remote place? What do you want with us?”

“Nothing. I mean, I don't want anything. I...I need...maybe you can....” He was making no sense, he knew, but could he trust these people? He looked at the Myka and Pete to see what they thought of all this.

“Just tell us the truth. We can't help you unless you do, Mr. Blake,” Pete cajoled with a smile.

“You won't believe me,” he said in a near whisper.

The two looked at each other with something that approached irony.

“You may be surprised,” Myka said dryly.

He looked at each of them, and then back at Nielson, who had never taken his eyes off him. “I doubt it,” he muttered. “I'm not sure of where I come from. It was never my plan to end up here. Time travel is impossible, or so I thought. Maybe I've slipped dimensions.”

A lifted eyebrow was Nielson's only reaction.

“Time travel is not possible, but moving between dimensions is?” Myka's voice sounded odd.

“I don't know. Neither is possible where I some from. Both require a technology we don't have. Do you?” If they did, maybe returning home wasn't an impossibility. A glimmer of hope sparkled in his mind.

“No, not at the moment, but time travel was possible at a time in the past. You've never heard of H.G. Wells?” Nielson's look was more intense than before, if that were possible.

He shook his head. “Who is that? Did he invent time travel?”

“You could say that,” Nielson muttered. “Did you come in some machine?”

“No, I just woke up here one day. I thought at first this was a Federation penal colony.” He remembered the barrenness of Cygnus Alpha.

“Federation? You mean like Star Trek's Federation? Cool!” Pete looked like an excited child. He and Vila would get along well. Maybe he was a Delta, too.

“Believe me, there is nothing good about the Federation. They oppress the people and keep everyone in a type of slavery. It is a dangerous and evil institution.”

Pete looked very disappointed. Nielson looked interested. “A future we should try to avoid, I take it. Why do you want to go back there, if it's such a terrible place?”

“I and my friends are trying to put an end to the Federation. I wanted to blow up the control center for the Federation's planet control, but the invasion force from Andromeda chose that place to enter our Galaxy, so we had to help fight them. That's when I got separated from my ship and friends.”

“A ship? A space ship? What's it look like? Are you the captain? How fast does it go? You mean you can go to another galaxy? Oh, man, I wish I could see it! Did you hear that, Artie? A real space ship!”  
Pete was nothing if not enthusiastic.

Nielson rolled his eyes, but continued studying Blake. “But you don't know how you got here.”

“No. Do you think there's a way for me to go back?”

“Let me see the jewels you have.”

“Do you think one of them is an artifact?” Myka asked, looking interested now.

“Maybe. Get an artifact trap and we'll see. The jewels, Mr. Blake.”

He regarded Nielson warily. Talk of a trap was not what he wanted to hear. “I...what are you going to do?” He carefully placed the remaining jewels he possessed on the desk. “I need those to....”

“We're not going to rob you,” Myka reassured him. “We just want to know if you were brought here by something you have in your possession.”

“What are you talking about? How could a piece of carbon—” He broke off as Pete returned with a bag of some sort. “What's that for?”

“It will tell us if you have the method of returning home in your pocket,” Pete said as he picked up one of the stones and dropped it in the bag. Nothing happened. He handed the first gem back to Blake and picked up another and placed it in the bag—nothing. He continued the process until all of the stones had been accounted for.

Blake felt let down and hopeless. The great idea Nielson had had was a dud. He was stranded here. “Thanks for trying,” he said.

“We still need to check the two diamonds you used as payment in town. You go get them, Pete. We'll wait here. Did you bring anything else from your world with you besides your clothes? Anything.”

He tried to think, but there was nothing he could remember except the jewels which were from the Liberator, so he had no idea where they'd come from. He shook his head, depression creeping over him. What would he do here for the rest of his life? How long would the jewels last him? Could they be converted to local currency?

“How about a look around, Mr. Blake?” Myka asked in response to Nielson's signal to get him out of the office for a while.

He got to his feet and followed the nice looking young woman out of the office and down a different corridor than the one he had entered by. After a double set of doors, he found himself in a space that defied description. It was a huge open space, seemingly endless, all of which was packed with boxes and crates and things he'd never seen. Looking around in puzzlement, he turned to Myka for some kind of explanation.

She smiled and said, “It's a warehouse for unexplained phenomena, or explained and dangerous items, or objects that have an effect on the world or people or...anything. I have no idea how many objects there are or what all of them do. Our job is merely locate them and seal them so they can't be used to hurt humans or this world.”

Blake was stunned. “There are this many 'things' that could affect this world?”

“Oh, more. We don't have all of them, not yet. Chances are you came here through the use of one of them.”

“What could do that?”

“I have no idea, but we'll find out and send you back, if that's what you really want. Although I can't imagine why you'd want to return to the horrible place you described. I'm sure Artie could find you a job here. You probably know what some of these are for. I mean, the technology of the future must have figured out some of the mysteries.”

He looked over the vast array of 'artifacts' and shook his head. “You need Avon. He'd know a lot more than I do.”

“Who's Avon?”

“Easily the most cynical man I know. But smart, very smart. He'd be able to tell you if any item here was actually some technology of the future.” Talking about Avon made him even more depressed. Would he ever see those angry, flashing eyes again? Hear that sarcastic voice? Argue his point of view against him again? It must have been Avon who had made sure the jewels were placed in his pockets, who made sure he would be able to buy help, no matter where he landed.

“Is he part of your crew on the space ship?”

Blake smiled at that. Avon would be incensed that anyone thought him a crew member, especially if he had to acknowledge Blake as his captain. “No, I wouldn't call him that. Definitely not. He is...a different sort of person. Not really a people person.” He winced a bit at the thought of Avon knowing he was being discussed.

“But he's your friend, isn't he?”

He thought about the last months aboard the Liberator, the arguments and silences, the certainty that Avon did in fact hate him, his willingness to use the ship to fight off the invading aliens, his injury and Avon's reaction. Was he still alive? Were any of them? “If he's not dead,” he finally answered, his voice quiet.

“Maybe whatever artifact that brought you here can return you to a time you want as well as a place. They're strange like that.”

She was so earnest. They all were.

Myka led him around and showed him several things he didn't recognize and several things that looked like items out of Sarkoff's collection. “All of these do something or cause something to happen? How?”

She shrugged. “We have no idea.”

“You really think it might be one of the jewels?”

“Why not?”

It was his turn to shrug. Everything they talked about sounded like stories of magic, somehow impossible but still true.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Pete's voice reached them from some point behind them. “Success. Come back to the office.”

Excitement fluttered in his stomach. Myka smiled at him and started back. He wanted her to hurry, to make up for the time he'd wasted here.

Artie Nielson actually had a smile on his face, the first one Blake had seen. It made him look harmless, something Blake knew he wasn't.

“Well, we've found the artifact that brought you here, although we still don't know how it works. It's done nothing to any of us. Here, you hold it and...and we'll just see.”

Blake took the jewel in his hand and...felt nothing. What was he supposed to do? Say? Nothing happened.

Myka looked at him with concern. “Try thinking of where you want to be. Your ship, or someplace you feel safe.”

~~~~~~

He awoke, light headed and disoriented. Where was he? The deep vibration he felt through his body was familiar. The Liberator, he was in his quarters aboard the Liberator. He leaped up, unbelieving and shot through with energy, making a dash to the flight deck. Everything the same.

“Vila!” he shouted in greeting, startling the man out of his half-unconscious state.

“I didn't do anything! What?”

Blake ran over and hugged him. Letting him go, he moved to the flight panel. “Where are we?”

Vila continued to look at him suspiciously. “Where we're supposed to be. Almost to Granidos, like we're supposed to be. Why? Something wrong?”

Granidos! That long ago? Sometimes he was the luckiest person he knew. “No, no. Everything's perfect. Gan's still here?” He mentally crossed his fingers.

Vila moved a few steps away from Blake. “Why wouldn't Gan be here?”

“Here is where he's supposed to be. Right. It's perfect. Everything's perfect.”

“Right.”

“What are you doing here, Blake? You're supposed to be sleeping.”

Avon's voice, cool and impersonal as usual, swung Blake around, an impossibly big grin splitting his face. “Avon!! Avon!” He rushed over to the unsmiling tech, but stopped short of hugging him. “I have something really important to talk to you about, but not now. Tomorrow is quite soon enough.”

“What is the matter with you? Have you finally lost what little mind the Federation left you?”

Blake laughed and looked about the flight deck happily. “No, I finally think I've found my right mind. I'll see you tomorrow.” With that, he left for his quarters, whistling a song he'd heard in the Univille bar and caressing the red diamond in his pocket. Not such a bad memory, at all.


End file.
